


Cardinal Sins

by hippohead



Category: Glee
Genre: Lovers to actual Lovers?, M/M, coworker!klaine, it's 2.30 am and i actually have no idea how to tag this, office!klaine, oh!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 09:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27348739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippohead/pseuds/hippohead
Summary: "Now, very explicitly, it has become almost unbearable how much Kurt is someone Blaine wants, feels desperate about. Like something inside of him is being hollowed out and replaced with a pinprick and narrow need for him; like he’ll forget how to breathe if Kurt doesn’t put his hands on him."or: Kurt Hummel, the seven deadly sins, rules, and breaking them.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 27
Kudos: 85





	Cardinal Sins

**Author's Note:**

> hi it's very late but this needed to get out of my brain before i went crazy so here it is i will come back tomorrow to edit all of the errors and spelling mistakes i have undoubtedly made thanks 4 being here

Envy. _a feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else’s possessions, qualities, or luck._

Blaine can’t stand the feeling that keeps settling in his stomach, refusing to be ignored. And the feeling is an attachment, and he’s still sifting through it, figuring it out, but it’s there nonetheless. 

And he knows it’s all useless, anyway. They work for the same company. That would make it messy and complicated and – well, against the rules. Interpersonal relationships in the office have to remain professional, above board, respectable. It was written out and emphasized in the staff booklet that Gloria had given him during his orientation. And he had willingly signed it. 

But then he had met Kurt. 

Kurt. Kurt, who always smiles at him from his desk whenever Blaine passes it. Kurt, who saw him eating alone in the break room during his first week and took the time to see how he was settling in. Kurt, who always wears clothes in a way that makes it so Blaine can’t figure out if he wants to marvel at them or tear them off. Just – _Kurt._

It’s not quite taking over his life yet – the attachment. It is always there; in his chest and the casual conversations they have that feel so easy and could be so much more if only one of them would take a step. But there is a distance in his crush. 

Until there isn’t. 

Maybe Blaine should have anticipated this. It’s Halloween, after all. And even though it’s a staff party, _of course_ Kurt went all out. He lets his eyes fall onto his frame, again, and looks him up and down, again. He’s dressed as a vampire but it’s _Kurt,_ so it’s not just a cheap cape and some plastic teeth. It’s leather boots that go up to his knee and lace up at the front. It’s a cape that is heavy and sweeping and looks handmade, red and gold detailing on the collar. And the fangs – they're veneers, so realistic and taunting and honestly? Blaine would gladly let him bite- 

And _that_ is why the distance is falling away. Because up until this point, Kurt has been nothing more than his hot and kind coworker that he pines after but cannot date, cannot have. Now, very explicitly, it has become almost unbearable how much Kurt is someone Blaine wants, feels desperate about. Like something inside of him is being hollowed out and replaced with a pinprick and narrow _need_ for him; like he’ll forget how to breathe if Kurt doesn’t put his hands on him. 

He walks out of the conference room where the party is being held, all tacky music and Halloween cobwebs, and into the eerily quiet office cubicles. He looks at the rows and rows of desks, separated by weak partitions and printed out photos of family members. He never really thought of himself in the corporate world, but it’s a job and he needs the money. Dreams can come later, he supposes. And yes, this is good – thinking about his failure to chase what he wants is cooling him down. Sobering him up. 

When he goes back in, Kurt is talking to Derek from accounts. 

Blaine hates Derek from accounts. He’s only just decided that he does, but it’s because Derek from accounts just put his hand on Kurt’s waist and Kurt didn’t pull away. In fact, Kurt whispers something in Derek from accounts’ ear. And then Derek from accounts grins. 

It’s the grin that does it, really. That ignites the burning jealousy and resentment inside of him – he's not sure where, but maybe it’s in his heart. All he knows is that he’s a cocktail of desire and disappointment and bitterness and fucking _longing._ He wants to be the one that’s grinning. And he wants it to be because Kurt whispered something in _his_ ear. 

He goes home before he can find out if Kurt leaves with Derek. He doesn’t want to know. 

* * *

Lust. _strong sexual desire._

He knows it’s fucked up to be thinking about Derek from accounts right now, but he can’t help but feel a little smug. 

Derek had Halloween, but Blaine is getting Christmas. 

He honestly had no idea that companies threw this many holiday-themed parties, but the rules seem more relaxed at them so he’s not complaining. Gloria had started making out with Victor at the end of the last one, and so he figures all bets are off at this one, too. And by bets he means guidelines and clauses in the company ethos that prohibits relations between staff members, which is great because he came prepared. 

He’s not sure if this is exactly how he imagined it – in the end bathroom stall, Kurt pushing him into the wall with a hand splayed out on his back, more forceful that he expected and fucking into him with their jeans pooled at their feet. But it’s hot, and it’s Kurt, and he _had_ told him to take what he wanted. And apparently what he wanted was Blaine like this. 

And that was very, very fine with Blaine. After all, he had turned up at the party with intention: it wasn’t going to be like last time. He refused to leave this goddamn building at the end of the night with puppy dog eyes and licking his wounds. And there _had_ been some sort of weird tension building up between them at work, tangible and palpable. Surely it wasn’t crazy to think that something might happen tonight, when the company rules would be put on hold. 

Kurt was wearing a fitted red shirt and green tie, all cheer and merry, with a little mistletoe clipped into the floppy bit of his fringe. And his eyes were shining with that first glass of eggnog, happy and warm and a little more intense than usual. Blaine had gestured to his own outfit – black chinos and a purple polo – and sighed about not getting the memo. 

“What _are_ we going to do with you, Blaine?” and he’d said it with some dirt in his tone, as if he didn’t really care about Blaine’s lack of festive attire, and had plenty of ideas of what to do with him that didn’t pertain to outfits. 

Blaine had taken the cue and whispered in his ear, “You can do whatever you want with me.” 

It was a silly line but when he pulled back, he saw it. The grin. The grin that Derek was the last one to wear and the grin that Blaine had wanted. This time, he’d been the one to give it. And he’s given it to Kurt. 

Kurt, who hummed lightly and cocked his head to the side a little, almost as if he was intrigued and amused by the brashness. Kurt, who motioned towards the hallway, subtly, and made sure Blaine followed him all the way up to the seventh floor and into the bathrooms that no one would be using tonight. Kurt, who kissed him with a ferocity that Blaine didn’t realise he could possess – he was always so kind and sweet and pleasing, but the first one had been nothing but dirty and grinding. 

They ended up in the stall – _their_ stall, now – for the sake of extra precaution, and Kurt started to whine like he needed more, and Blaine needed more too, so he slid the bottle and packet into Kurt’s hand before he could second guess the gesture and whispered it. The four words that got them to _here_ , Blaine’s cheek pressed against the wall and panting.

_Take what you want._

From that moment on, it had been pure want and taking and sex and giving and the feeling of Kurt inside of him, moving and building them and satisfaction. 

It wasn’t until after, when Kurt was fiddling with his belt and smiling at Blaine wickedly, that he wondered if this was just a sex thing for him. And maybe that’s all it was for himself, too; the adoring him and the wanting him and the thinking about him all of the time. Maybe it was just some sort of twisted lust he needed to get out of his system, and then he could move on. 

Either way, when he saw Derek from accounts on his way out, he couldn’t stop the smirk. 

* * *

Greed. _i_ _ntense and selfish desire for something._

If it was a case of getting it out of his system, it didn’t seem to be working. 

Because he would still watch the outline of Kurt’s profile as he sat at his desk, tapping away at his keyboard and fiddling with his stationery and eating salads for lunch every day, always salads. And he would still long for something, which didn’t make sense, because Kurt was already giving him so much. 

He was giving him loaded looks in staff meetings which always meant Kurt’s place, after work. He was giving him text messages that said things like, _Meet_ _you in our stall in five minutes,_ and Blaine would go and risk his job and Kurt’s job and barely blink an eye. He was still giving him smiles, kind and friendly like always, and sometimes pointed or nostalgic for something that had only happened the night before. 

And he was giving him words. 

They talked about everything, from Broadway to which of their coworkers slacked off the most to Kurt’s family and Blaine’s friends. Blaine was trying to take care of their conversations; collect them, file them away, figure out how much they weighed. But they were always in or around sex, convoluted, and Blaine had no idea if they meant everything or nothing. 

They were standing in the staff kitchen, each pushing buttons on coffee machines and chatting easily about the announcement of Audra McDonald’s return to Broadway, when Kurt’s body brushed past his to get to the bin. It was only fleeting, and he knows what it feels like to have Kurt’s bare skin on him, for god’s sake, but it still ignites the flames that live on his limbs. The flames that mimic Kurt’s lips, Kurt’s breath, Kurt’s tongue. 

Maybe it will become clear later on whether or not the conversations are something, anything, or just words because they’re two people in a space together, but right now he doesn’t care. Everything else shrinks, and all he feels is greed. 

And so he turns to Kurt (who is licking at the froth of his mocha) with hunger and those flames, and says, “You’re coming to mine tonight.” 

Kurt’s eyes widen and then turn that type of wicked that Blaine’s already obsessed with, and nods. 

He decides to just be greedy for a while. Kurt is greedy, too. And maybe they can just revel in their mutual greed and talk but not _talk,_ and take what they need. 

Maybe _that_ is what this is. 

* * *

Pride. _consciousness of one’s own dignity._

The greed doesn’t run out, but the _just_ greed does. 

He’s falling in love with Kurt Hummel. And it’s ridiculous, and awful, and he really wishes he wasn’t. Because all they do is wind each other up at work, and then let go at one of their apartments. And they talk, and they laugh, and they sometimes get food, but they never stay over. And it’s been months. 

Blaine’s favourite part is the first five minutes of when they’re coming down because Kurt always laughs incredulously, as if he can’t believe they really just _created_ that together. And there’s affection in the touches immediately after, like Kurt needs to marvel and show that through his fingertips. But it runs out, and they fall back into something confusingly platonic when they pull their shirts back on. 

There is a softness to Kurt that Blaine can’t piece together with their seemingly detached arrangement. Blaine had brought up _Notting_ _Hill_ once and Kurt’s eyes had drifted to somewhere floating and starry, full of wist and crave. He wanted romance, and Blaine wanted to give it to him. Why weren’t they there? 

Maybe it was that they had gotten stuck on the lust and the greed. Maybe they’d gotten stuck there for so long that neither of them knew how to barge past it and into love, or at least like. All they knew were caught glances and understanding implications and keeping quiet in their bathroom stall. But Blaine was getting desperate; his heart was falling apart every time Kurt’s mouth was around his cock, knowing that it was just this and nothing more. He was going to have to swallow his pride and do something, _say_ something. 

Say anything. Barge. 

So he does. They’re lying on Kurt’s bed and he knows he only has about ten minutes before he’s due to start collecting his things and order his Uber. They have their own rules, just like the company does, except they never break their ones. And he keeps it in his chest for a second, just checking if he should say it, but he needs to. He has to. 

“Kurt?” 

Kurt's eyes are closed, and he’s humming softly, but he nods as an answer. 

“I- I think... god, fuck it. I really like you.” 

The humming stops so abruptly it makes Blaine’s blood run cold. He’s ruined everything. Kurt opens his eyes and he looks shocked and reeling and then he says, so quietly that Blaine almost misses it, “I really like you, too.” 

“What?” and he doesn’t mean for it to be a sort of snap, but it’s everything he wanted to hear back and sort of ludicrous. Why on earth have they been _not talking_ for seven months, then? 

“I said I really like you, too.” 

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Kurt’s reply is a little defensive, “Why didn’t _you_ say something?” 

And _that’s_ what this is, has been all along. It’s been two idiots not clarifying, not underlining, not highlighting and bolding and making their feelings clear. Not throwing their arms out wide and saying that sleeping with each other was excellent and everything but they wanted even more. 

“Oh.” 

Kurt agrees, says _oh_ too, and then they start to laugh. And Kurt’s still laughing when he presses a careful and devoted kiss to Blaine’s lips, as if it was the first time they were doing this. And it sort of feels like it is, because it’s not a kiss to lead them somewhere. It’s a kiss because Kurt wants to just kiss him. 

And Blaine wants to just kiss Kurt, too. 

* * *

Wrath. _extreme anger._

The thing about falling in love with someone is that suddenly your whole entire fucking heart belongs to them, and it still belongs to them even when you're mad. 

And the thing about falling in love with someone you’re not supposed to be in love with is that the shiny excitement of sneaking around wears off very quickly when it’s not just about sex. When it’s about wanting to hold their hand or kiss their cheek or figure out dinner plans in the break room, it becomes wearisome and frustrating very, very quickly. 

It doesn’t take long for wearisome and frustrating to become tension and annoyance and anger and then arguments, and it’s not about wrath, not really. It’s about desperation and longing for normalcy and love. But it comes out as wrath. 

Kurt tells Blaine that he can’t keep going round and round in circles, being stressed about having to keep them a secret and both of them picking fights. Blaine agrees but he’s tired and so he yells back. And he tries to remind himself of the balance – there are fights and there are bitter nights spent apart but there are also nights where their fingers stay tangled the whole time and there is cooking for each other and there is adoration. 

Kurt's sleeping next to him, mumbling softly in his sleep, when he realises: they have both worked so hard to not have to hide their love from the world, and so the amount of effort they are putting into hiding their love from a corporation that pays their bills just seems overwhelmingly worthless. And reductive. 

So he quits his job. 

He doesn’t tell Kurt; just watches the clock on the last day of his notice and walks over to Kurt’s desk with purpose when it hits five, and kisses him. Right there, in front of everyone. 

Kurt is breathless when he pulls back, “Blaine, what are you doing?” 

But Blaine pecks away the panic, “I don’t work here anymore.” 

And he can see in Kurt’s smile so many things: questions and wondering about what else he is going to do and _why_ he quit and love and _oh_ , relief. They get to be them, now. 

They get to be them anywhere. 

* * *

Gluttony. _habitual greed or excess in eating._

They celebrate by going to their favourite restaurant. 

It’s in New Jersey because they were always careful, but it feels like the place they need to go tonight. They order everything on the menu that they love, already knowing that there’s no way they’ll finish it all. It’s raining when they leave and they can’t stop laughing on the subway ride back to Blaine’s because they’re carrying so many containers of leftovers and they’re soaking wet and also they had lots of wine. 

They leave the containers on the counter and Kurt tells Blaine how much he loves Blaine's kitchen. 

“It’s so much nicer than mine. And you have twice the number of hobs as I do.” 

Kurt’s a little pouty about it which makes Blaine want to grin and then he realises that he is more than willing to give it away, “You can have my kitchen.” 

He sets Blaine with an expression that’s probably supposed to be serious but his eyes are glassy and he mostly just looks silly, “What about you? Then you won’t have a kitchen.” 

And Blaine realises what he’s saying, catches up to his own thoughts and voice, and it- well, it makes sense. It’s been over a year since he uttered those words – _take what you want_ – and at the time it had just been about sex but now he means them about everything. “We can share it.” 

Kurt’s not so drunk that that doesn’t sink in, folding neatly inside of his heart and all he can say is, “Move in with you?” 

“Yeah, move in with me.” 

Kurt starts crying and waving his hands to dismiss the tears as happy ones, and says yes, and then they take a shower together because they’re still soggy. It’s not long before Blaine pushes Kurt into the wall, his hands on Kurt’s back and then wrapping around him until he’s clawing at his chest, fingers caught between skin and tile, and the parallel isn’t lost on him. He thinks about their old bathroom stall and decides that this is much better. In his bathroom. 

In _their_ bathroom. 

* * *

Sloth. _reluctance to work or make an effort; laziness._

Blaine is exhausted. 

And he’s glad he is, because he spent two months looking for a new job and it was starting to wear him down. The applications, the interviews, the desire to give up. But Kurt had been there next to him, every night, spell-checking and encouraging, and also being inspired to try and follow his own dreams, too. 

It’s not exactly what he wants to do – the job – but it’s close enough. One day he will be _on_ the stage, but for now he’s okay being behind it. And the stage manager is lovely, and takes to him instantly, and it’s hard work and rewarding and challenging and it’s something. It’s something. 

Last night, Blaine had announced to Kurt that he had every intention of doing absolutely nothing today except for Kurt, and sleeping, and watching movies. 

Kurt had laughed, “That can be arranged. Although, Dad and Carole are coming over for dinner, remember?” 

He had remembered, and that was fine. He liked Burt and Carole, and he was pretty sure they liked him back. Sometimes Carole would text him about things like what colour scheme she should go with in their spare room or whether or not he had any allergies. Burt had called him on his birthday. He called them to tell them his news about his job. 

Kurt had become his family, and although there was no ring yet, there would be. There would be. 

He had woken up to Kurt kissing his neck, and a murmured, “You said you wanted to do nothing but me today.” 

“And sleep,” he had countered, but there was nothing behind the comment. He was definitely not complaining. 

And then, afterwards, Kurt pulled his laptop to his knees and started applying to fashion courses, and Blaine curled up into his side, light and dizzy and deliriously happy, and he stayed that way all day, as long as he could until Kurt shooed him out of bed and into the shower before dinner. 

And as much as Kurt tutted about how they’d barely gotten anything done all day, Blaine knew. 

Blaine knew that there was nowhere else either of them would rather be. 


End file.
